


Second Chances

by Irelando



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irelando/pseuds/Irelando
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was nothing personal. Just a job. Of all people, Ace understands that. And she understands the importance of second chances. </p>
<p>Of course, it doesn't hurt when the elf in question makes her laugh.</p>
<p>Drabble of the walk back from the failed assassination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Chances

“May I ask you a question?”

Ace glanced up at the elf assassin as he caught up to her. His limp had gotten worse as they walked, she noticed, the bloodstain on his thigh still slowly spreading. The cut above his eye, on the other hand, was already beginning to form a scab. She shrugged.

“There are not many who would turn their back so easily on one who just tried to kill them.”

“That wasn’t a question,” Ace pointed out.

Zevran waved a hand. “It was implied?”

Ace relented. She glanced back over her shoulder; sure enough, Alistair’s eyes were fixed on the assassin. Leliana was a little more subtle about it, but she was watching just as closely in her way. Sten had his usual unreadable expression on, but Ace got the feeling he was also watching their new addition. She turned forward again. “There’re enough eyes on you.”

Zevran chuckled. “True enough. So, Warden, what precisely do you plan to do with me?”

“Ace,” she corrected automatically. The use of her title, however polite, still didn’t sit right with her.

“An odd name for a dwarf, is it not?” Zevran asked, apparently unperturbed by her dodge of his question.

“It is,” she allowed, “But no stranger than my full one.”

“Which is?”

“Loghain didn’t tell you?”

“You’re right. That is certainly stranger.”

Ace gave him a startled look. Then, his joking tone hit home and she looked away, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

Zevran smiled enough for both of them. “Loghain told me very little,” he said easily. “I did not need your name to find you, after all.”

True enough. “Acacia,” she said finally. “Acacia Brosca.”

“Acacia,” Zevran repeated thoughtfully, a lilt to the last syllable that Ace had never heard before. And wouldn’t mind hearing again.

“I prefer Ace,” she insisted.

“Is that because it is short, like you?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Did you really just go there?”

Zevran grinned at her. “To tell the truth, I was a little concerned it would go over your head.”

“I could still stab you and have done with it,” Ace told him sternly, the threatening words belied by the smile quirking at the corners of her mouth.

“You could,” he agreed. “I am certain your dagger-eyed Templar friend would be happy to give you a boost.” He waggled his eyebrows.

This time, Ace couldn’t help but laugh.

Zevran beamed at her. “It is so refreshing to work for someone with a sense of humor.”

It was nice, at that, to have someone cracking jokes. She had come close to laughing at a couple of Alistair’s wisecracks, but they always seemed to go hand-in-hand with trouble of one sort or another. And she had always loved simple (bad) jokes.

A dark shape came barreling around the bend in the path, skidding to a stop at the sight of Zevran. Mouse’s ears flickered back and forth uncertainly, his lip lifting from his teeth in a soundless snarl.

Zevran looked at the hound, then at her. “Is this your valiant steed?”

“Steed?” Ace widened her eyes, as if the thought had never occurred to her, and turned a thoughtful gaze on the mabari (who, after all, came easily to her shoulder). Zevran laughed. Ace smiled.

That seemed to be enough to put Mouse at ease. The mabari trotted over and bumped Ace’s shoulder with his nose, leaving a wet smear on her armor, then fell into step beside her.

“I take it this means your camp is close?” Zevran said hopefully.

Ace didn’t bother to answer. A moment later, they rounded the corner, and the camp came into view.

She stopped at the edge of the clearing. “You’ll be on second watch, with me.”

He smiled, his voice dropping several pitches. “Just you?”

“And Mouse,” she said, thumping the mabari’s side affectionately. He barked. “There are poultices and bandages in the chest over there.”

“Thank you.” Zevran started to limp away, then paused and met her eyes. “Truly.”

For a moment, Ace was speechless, taken aback by the lapse in the elf’s joking manner. But the moment passed, and Ace drew her own shield back around her. “Kill a few thousand darkspawn and we’ll call it even.”

Zevran smiled slightly, bowed his head, and limped off towards the chest she had indicated with a cheery bounce to his step.

Ace watched him go until a cold, wet nose shoved gently against the back of her neck, making her jump. Mouse padded around beside her and looked at her, tilting his head to the side.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ace told him.

Mouse waved his tail and whuffed, mouth dropping open slightly in a doggy grin.

Ace relented and rubbed his ears. “I know. I’m in trouble.”

But she couldn’t spend all day mooning about. There was work to be done. With a final pat to the top of Mouse’s head, Ace turned resolutely and went into her tent.


End file.
